


the abyss greets me by my name

by rayfelle



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, from strangers to bros, outsider becomes a friend, yet to play death to the outsider so we're ignoring that game here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayfelle/pseuds/rayfelle
Summary: Emily knows that this meeting will soon come to an end, but she doesn’t want it to. “And what kind of people are we, then?”This time the Outsider seems to ponder the question, or perhaps just stares at her to prolong the waiting time. Finally, he replies, “Lost and used.”(or: Emily and the Outsider form a strange and unexpected friendship)
Relationships: Emily Kaldwin & The Outsider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	the abyss greets me by my name

Emily sits on her new bed at the _Dreadful Whale_ , in the cabin that Meagan so kindly gave her.

It still feels so surreal to have fallen this low. This morning she was an Empress, sat in her throne, with father by her side. And now she has dried blood on her hands and smeared along one side of her face. Emily’s father has been locked in stone by Delilah’s magic, and her people lay slaughtered on the Dunwall Tower’s floor.

Tomorrow Emily will gather herself and what little allies she has now and make a plan. Tomorrow she will rise again and fight, do what is needed to get back her father, her throne, her rightful place.

But now, in this dark cabin Emily allows herself to quietly cry and hide her tears behind her palms. She should wash herself, let the dirt and today’s pain drain away with the water. But that seems too hard of a chore – getting up and caring. Right now Emily holds back a low whine and bites her bottom lip, breathes in with a shudder as she allows despair and fear reign over her for just this one moment.

Just one moment of weakness. Just for a little bit.

Her sleep is restless and empty, cold. But it comes and that’s all that matters.

…

The dream does not feel like a dream. It’s a reality that does not work like reality. Emily walks along the jaded rock and looks up above, into the muted greys not unlike a stormy sky. But it’s so cold here, so cold and empty, a vast nothingness that stretches on and on.

A whale swims by and Emily follows it with her gaze.

 _Something is watching me, moving closer_ , Emily thinks as she walks on, deeper into the cold, the unknown. She reaches a doorway to nowhere, a stone that should not stand the way it does.

And then he is there. Emily has read about him, listened to Corvo speak about him sometimes, about the way the Outsider leaves an impression in a way that is not exactly describable. Not easily, at least.

“Welcome, empress Emily Kaldwin. I’m a friend of your father’s from the bad old days.” The Outsider says, maybe even smiles, but it’s hard to tell. His voice echoes. It seems to come from all around them, rather than just his mouth.

Emily takes a deep breath and licks her lips, nervous. “So, you’re the Outsider.”

The Outsider changes his smile into a smirk, an amused thing that unnerves. “I never expected us to meet. Though, I did watch your mother die at the hands of schemers who wanted your _little empire_. And then you were rescued by a killer in a strange mask.” He makes her empire sound like a tiny toy house, an insignificant thing that matters little in the grand scheme of things. “I thought that would be the end of the excitement.”

“Sorry to prove you wrong. Should I be proud to have surprised someone like you?” Emily looks into the solid black of the Outsider’s eyes and is not afraid. She follows as the man disappears and appears as he wishes, in a cloud of black shards.

“Who knows.” The Outsider keeps his hands behind his back now, looks down at her with interest and uncaring mixed in equal doses. “Delilah and the Duke, flies in the ointment, aren’t they? I wonder, how many of your own subjects you are ready to slaughter, what you are willing to become to get back your seat?”

Before Emily can answer she is distracted by the same whale, now swimming just by them, close enough that she can touch it if she were to reach out with her hand. She wants to, like a child taken in by something shiny. But knows to better not. Not in the Void, where nothing is certain and only one entity knows what it hides.

Emily curls her fingers into firsts, hides them from view. She has no answer to that.

The Outsider hums. “Fifteen years ago I asked Corvo the same question and it changed him. Now it’s your turn, Emily.” He offers his hand, palm up and inviting, pulsing with Void and possibilities.

With power to change things.

Emily looks down at the offer of power and thinks of Corvo, of what her father would choose if it were him here. When her mother died, Corvo took the Outsider’s power in order to get his revenge, to save her, to make things right. She will be marked. She will have powers. She will have… an advantage.

“I’m willing to change to save my father, to save my empire.” Emily says to the Outsider, to herself, as she takes the offered hand.

Emily feels the burn on her skin, the Void that is now connected to her. _Insider of her_. It feels like standing on the edge of something. The Outsider looks down at the mark burned at the top of her palm and then disappears for good, leaves her in the Void alone, though the stone path stretches on, as if asking to be followed.

Her mother’s Heart soon beats in her palm, as cold as the Void, but full of her spirit. Trapped just for a limited time, but here. And Emily wants to keep her mother’s voice in her memory forever, is glad that she still has a chance to meet Jessamine and talk to her. Even if it’s just an echo of the woman.

The Outsider shows up once more and he talks about Delilah, about the woman’s plans and ambitions, about how the witch can paint the most beautiful of paintings, then slit a man’s throat and have him thank her for it.

“Delilah’s playing the long game and now she is the empress.” The Outsider leans in, so close that Emily can smell him. “I’ll let you in on a secret, though. She has her eyes set on a much greater prize.”

“And let me guess, you won’t tell me about it?” Emily almost laughs. There is so much, so much on the plate. So much that has happened, so much that will. And Delilah has started it all.

The Outsider laughs, a brief noise that putters out as soon as it has been made. “No. Where would be the fun in that, Emily?”

She is back on the boat, in her cabin, cold to her bone and with power in her bloodstream. Emily looks down at her mother’s Heart and cradles it close, lets the steady _thump-thump_ of it resonate with her own heartbeat. She is not alone, not anymore.

…

Karnaca is a bitter truth to swallow.

In a way Emily has known all along, ever since she started to learn, as a child, about the empire she would rule one day, that Karnaca does not prosper from its own resources and facilities anymore. It has been stolen from, plundered by the rich and their demands, taken over by bloodflies that feed and grow from the many that died.

The rat plague almost destroyed Dunwall, but here it was only one tiny problem in the face of something much worse. Much more long-living.

From her viewpoint atop a building it’s easy to see the cruelty and mockery of the Grand Guard. The regular people, the workers that are at the mercy of their leaders. Before it was Emily and now it’s Delilah that does not seem to care of those under her.

But this brokenness and this rotten greed was started before Delilah. Before, maybe, even Emily. But she had not made it better. No, she let the infection spread and looked the other way.

“I’m not better than Delilah.” Emily does not look away as a couple of guards execute someone just for looking wrong. She will not look away from her mistakes, from what she has caused. “I need to fix this.”

There is a presence near her, the far-away touch of Void. It’s gone as soon as Emily notices it, but she remains on guard.

Later she finds a shrine to the Outsider, the runes that call towards her with a soft, enchanting music.

The Outsider is there again, sitting before her with a blank face, relaxed as the Void around them shifts. “I’ve seen cities go bad before. Smelled the rot.” He says, his arms bracing his weight atop his legs. The Outsider is calm, almost uncaring as he speaks, “So have you, fifteen years ago in Dunwall.”

“But then it wasn’t my fault. Now it is. It’s personal.” Emily doesn’t know why she’s explaining this, why should the Outsider care.

The Outsider shifts. He’s now before her, face so close that Emily can see the nothingness in his eyes. “Or maybe you missed it, that year that made you who you are? Don’t deny it. Rats in cradle, black smoke rising from burning bodies, an entire city crying out. It’s now happening again.”

She knows. Emily knows well enough that it’s the same as before, when her mother died and she was forced to watch that death, then the deaths of many more. The stench of burning human is a stench that will never leave her, something that Emily will never forget. The skittery sound of a hundred rats running though the pipes behind the wall she slept next to.

“I’m here now. I _will_ make it better, I will fix this. Just like my father fixed Dunwall, then.” Emily straightens out, the stance of an empress. She may not have an empire at her disposal now, but she has the power of Void, her own two hands and all that Corvo taught her.

The Outsider almost smiles yet again. “Well then, welcome back. Welcome _home_. People like you and the Crown Killer are a part of places like this.”

Emily knows that this meeting will soon come to an end, but she doesn’t want it to. “And what kind of people are we, then?”

This time the Outsider seems to ponder the question, or perhaps just stares at her to prolong the waiting time. In the end he turns almost away from her, as if ready to leave, before he replies, monotone as always, “Lost and used.”

…

Emily saves the Crown Killer.

How could she not, when Hypatia is more a victim than a villain. That poor woman. All the doctor wants to do and has tried to do until now is save others, be they poor or old, young or rich, but then the Duke poisoned her, _used her_ like a puppet with strings tied to his fat fingers decorated in silver and gold.

The Outsider is there again, when Emily has returned back to the _Dreadful Whale_ with doctor Hypatia slumped against her shoulder, tired and worn-out. One moment Emily dreams of when this is all over, her father no longer a stone figure in dangers of being broken and her throne hers alone again, the next the Void has called and Emily stands before the vast, sprawling nothingness and everything.

“The history will be melded as many ways as there are mouths in your empire.” The Outsider walks around her as usual, arms crossed before his chest. “But you will always remember the truth, won’t you? Your truth, at least.”

“I will never forget.” Emily doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t think she can. Not tonight.

The Outsider’s footsteps are quiet here, only the shift of air against Emily’s back is a sign that the being is moving around, still here. “I wonder how else you will change the history, affect the flow of time. How many decisions will you take that create new paths, new variations.”

“I will simply follow and do what I think is right. Like my father did, when mother died. That’s all I can do.” Emily breathes in deep. “Delilah cannot be let to rule.”

“Even if it might be her right? The same way it is yours?” The Outsider asks.

Until now the Outsider has never asked things that require answers. Emily is surprised enough that she turns around and blinks at the being, the man that is not just a man. She opens her mouth, then thinks better of it and waits, rearranges her thoughts. Feelings, Emily has learned with time, are not always welcome when hard decisions and harder answers need to be given.

“Even if it is her right, if she abuses it then she does not deserve it.” Emily swallows.

The Outsider seems almost intrigued by her reply, head tilted just so to one side. He has stopped his packing and now simply stands and stares. “How interesting.” The being finally mumbles, seemingly pleased with what he has been given.

Emily wakes in her bed the next morning, tired.

…

Kirin Jindosh’s house looms over Karnaca. It doesn’t fit in with the mountains and the houses the color of sand.

Emily knows she needs to end one genius for the sake of another. For the sake of a future where there is no army of Clockwork Soldiers that feel nothing and can kill the living easily and with no remorse, calculate the best and fastest ways to do so even.

She knows, though. She knows that a genius like Jindosh should be _wanted_ , worked with for the best achievements to make the lives of others better, to make her lands, her _empire_ , prosper like no other. But the Outsider and notes scattered about, testimonies of others, also tell of a man uncaring of others. Like witches the genius uses bones as materials. Doesn’t understand why people don’t want to see the remains of their loved ones used like that.

Emily knows that Jindosh is a genius, an asset that should be guarded and made deals with.

But is a genius that tortures those, who do not abide by his wants and protects only the aristocracy is truly a genius that she wants in her court, on her side? Or, around at all?

The Outsider is there as Emily pulls the lever and watches Jindosh shiver, beg for his intellect to be preserved, for _him_ to be preserved. She does not kill the man, but is this truly a better alternative?

“So, this is your mercy.” The Outside walks around the intricate laboratory.

Emily steps away from Jindosh and takes a seat in an empty chair, hides her face in her hands for a moment. She breathes, strengthens her own will, her dedication. “I’m not sure. But he is alive and he can’t create the Clockworks anymore, or use this machine on Sokolov.”

Silence stretches as the Outsider looks down at Jindosh with indifference, as unreadable as he always is. He glances up towards Emily for a moment. “Humans and your reasonings, your excuses. But perhaps there is freedom in simplicity, be it of the mind or otherwise.”

…

When Emily steps out of the Void she still feels the unsettling feeling of Delilah’s touch on her. She’s trembling lightly, just enough to pass it off as being cold if anyone asks. But being cold in Karnaca is strange on its own. Here, where the sun is hot and dust storms harsh, it’s not cold that slithers uncomfortably under the skin.

“Was it really how Delilah put it to be?” Emily asks.

This time it’s not a question to the Outsider, but to Jessamine’s Heart that beats slowly against the palm of her hand. Emily wants to be sure that her mother is not the fault of this. A lie told by a child that did not know the consequences of it cannot be held as the starting point of the destruction of an empire. But a child’s grudge, grown through the years into resentment and anger, can.

Emily cannot fault Delilah for the hurt that has been caused by her mother, even more so by her grandfather. But she _can_ fault Delilah for using those as reasons to start a coup that runs the whole empire into nothing but sickness and death.

Jessamine’s Heart beats and her spirit comes together in a whisper of Void. It shines bright in the dark room, like hope. “I’m with you, Emily, even in the Void. If only I could do more for you.” She says, her hands reaching out in false hope to touch.

“Mother?” Emily, too, wants to reach out to her mother for one last time. But it’s not possible, she knows. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“Am I to blame for Delilah’s bitterness?” Jessamine asks, but doesn’t seem to care for an answer. It feels like a thought that has burdened her for long.

Emily shakes her head, “No, she chose this herself, she orchestrated the coup.”

A smile lingers along Jessamine’s lips, a sad one, with regrets and a farewell lingering just beyond. “Our decisions have weight, even the small ones. I feel my time drawing to an end. Soon.”

Jessamine disappears, leaving Emily alone in the room, confused and wanting for real answers, for a confirmation that she is doing the right thing. That her decisions and her actions are not made with the same hatred and towards the same kind of goal as Delilah’s wants, just masked better. Emily is not quite alone, but she misses her father and his presence, his advice and take on situations.

She misses having someone around that she can count on and trust fully.

The Outsider seems to whisper in her ear, voice far-away and more familiar now than even Sokolov’s tired coughs. “What are you willing to become, Emily Kaldwin, to take back what is yours?”

…

When Emily meets the Outsider again, on her way to deal with Lady Ashworth, the being is lounging on a rock, looking impressed for once. He rests his face against his hand, waves the other around in slow motions as he speaks, “Look at you, making your way across this shuddering city.”

“I have to. I _must_ put an end to this.” Emily doesn’t look away this time.

The Outsider is not an enemy, but he is not an ally either. He is a starting point, a well of power freely given. An observer that comments and waits, watches how his marked make their name with what they have been given. How they change the history – how Emily changes her future.

Emily hears more about Ashworth and the Vice Overseer that she knew before, stores this information for when the time comes to use it. But it’s a context that continues to flow through all the allies that Delilah has gathered around her – those that stand out from their own, unhappy with their status, unwilling to bend for others. The outsiders in their own right.

Birds of a feather.

“I don’t have long with my mother, do I?” Emily asks right as she feels her time in the Void to come to an end. She doesn’t expect an answer, but hopes something will be given to her anyway.

The Outsider pauses, blinks. “The spirit will move on, as it should. But you are never without Empress Jessamine. The Void embraces everything, it stores everything.”

“Thank you.” Emily blinks and the Void is gone.

Around her the dilapidated building groans under its own weight, but Emily breathes easier. The Heart will no longer house her mother’s spirit, it will move on. But Jessamine will stay within Emily. At least, a part of her. The Outsider is many things, but a liar he is not.

It may have been a truth that Emily already knew, but hearing it from the Outsider made it solid, unbreakable.

…

Lady Ashworth screams her throat raw as Emily severs her connection with the Void. All the witches that were made and warped by her hand fall where they stand, unconscious and bare of the magic they shared between them.

Emily stands back in the shadows as the woman continues to cry, begging forgiveness from Delilah.

Sat atop one of the large bookcases the Outsider swings his feet back and forth. He doesn’t say anything, but Emily doesn’t expect anything from the being. Just seeing him here is strange enough, especially when there are no more runes and bonecharms to be found.

As she passes the Outsider Emily simply nods in acknowledgement. The Outsider in turn follows her exit with his eyes, no longer as heavy or strange as they used to be when Emily first met him.

…

“The Duke or Serkonos inherited a vibrant city and wasted no time in stripping it to the bone. What will he leave behind?” The Outsider stands before Emily once again, sounds curious for an answer to his questions now, “And what about you? Who will you leave to pick up the pieces here in the Jewel of the South?”

Emily doesn’t know the right options, because she doesn’t know Serkonos, the people of Karnaca that care about more than money and silver pulled up from the depths of the mines. She has no people ready to stand in the Duke’s place, but she does know what will happen if she leaves things as they are.

“I will not let the Duke stay. Now that I have seen what he has done with a land previously so beautiful I cannot let this continue. I want to make it better, even if I am late. Hopefully, just not too late.” Emily swallows down the feeling of inadequacy of her answer, promises to herself to do better. To _know_ better.

The Outsider leans his head against his curled fist, hums. “Perhaps you will find an option along the way. Perhaps you will waste it. I look forward to seeing what you will do, Emily.”

Once back in Paolo’s house Emily takes a deep breath and holds it in for as long as she can.

It’s the first time the Outsider had said her name. Just her name, without the empire attached to it, without a title left lingering around the corner, taunting and awaiting with expectations. Corvo did not tell of the Outsider being so close to anyone as to call them by name so familiarly, without the indifference of an immortal being’s curiosity and nothing else.

The warmth of Karnaca shakes away the coldness of the Void. Emily straightens out and grips the sword tighter in her hand, lets the weight of it ground her into the mission that still needs to be done.

…

Aramis Stilton is a shell of a man and a human being when Emily finds him.

She reaches out to touch, to call out to what is left of man so loved and respected, but hesitates. Emily feels pity for him. And regret. Delilah broke someone this thoroughly and Emily never knew. No one knew, since Aramis has been kept in his house turned prison all this time.

“Three years ago something inside Aramis Stilton snapped like a cheap lock.” The Outsider is here again, with her, sitting on the broken piano. He looks down at the previous owner of the silver mines with what could almost be sympathy. Not pity.

Emily looks towards Aramis as well, now frozen in time due to the presence of the Outsider. “Because of Delilah. Because of whatever it is that she did to gain immortality.” It’s not a fact that needs to be questioned, not when the Outsider points it out so obviously.

“A part of him and a part of this house never left that evening. The Duke’s inner circle are still gathered here, setting their grand plan in motion.” The Outsider hops down from the piano and walks across the moth-eaten carpet that was once plush, steps around Emily and Aramis as he looks around, eyes taking in the things that only he can see. “Delilah’s plan.”

There is so much weight to the air. Emily doesn’t know if it’s because of the Outsider or whatever rot that Delilah has left behind.

The Outsider has stepped closer to Aramis again. “And a part of Aramis Stilton is always here, still breaking.”

“That’s torture.” Emily whispers, afraid to be louder than needed. Even if there is no one around to hear her. “This poor man.”

The Outsider looks her way, contemplative. “The Void is not exactly a place, and it is much older and stranger than you could ever know. It watches out from within. And here, in this house, at the heart of it, the Void is leaking through a pinprick left behind by Delilah’s little trick. Even magic is perverted here, and things don’t work as they should.”

It’s strange for the Outsider to be so direct, even helpful with his commentary. Emily doesn’t understand the message just yet, but then everything becomes clear when she is presented with yet another gift, a device that allows her to warp time with the help of the Void. And it’s only possible because of what Delilah did. Because the magic here has been changed and mangled into something that not even the Outsider is willing to touch.

“Can I save him with this?” Emily gestures towards Aramis Stilton.

The Outsider tilts his head just so. “Everything is possible with the Void. Questions is, do you want to and are you capable of doing so?”

…

It happens when Emily is leaving the now changed mansion of Aramis Stilton. Her fingers barely touch the giant doors as the floor under her disappears and she falls. She only lets out a small noise of surprise, her fingers desperately scratching along the floor in a futile bid to hold onto to something, to stop the fall.

She tumbles down anyway. Underneath her is the Void.

Emily holds her breath as she falls lower, gaining speed. The Void is endless, bottomless, _dark_ when it wants to be. Even the whales look dangerous now, floating by as they always do.

Someone catches her by the arm as she falls and Emily’s body jerks to a halt. She looks up and into the Outsider’s black eyes, the tiny, amused smirk that plays on his lips – a reaction to the wide-eyed surprise and fear that must be swimming in hers, reflected on her flushed face.

Emily is dropped on the stone and she gasps. “I did not expect this kind of welcome.”

The Outsider crouches before her. “Look around you, a crumbling island at the very edges of the Void. Nothing new.” He disappears and appears further down, poised as usual. “But this one is special. It’s the place where my throat was cut, four thousand years ago. This is where my life ended and where it began again.”

A tremble runs down Emily’s back. She blinks and looks around her, then back at the Outsider. He used to be human, once. She gets up on her feet. “You were human once.”

“It’s where they made me.” The Outsider looks to the side, his voice almost breaking with an emotion, something that Emily doesn’t know the name of.

Emily finally turns to where the Outsider was looking and finds herself staring at an image frozen in time. A memory preserved in stone. This part feels older than any other part of the Void that she has been in until now. It’s a strange feeling to have, especially when what Emily knows of the Void is limited to it being limitless and everywhere.

As she moves through the crowd of people stood around an altar and sees the man with a knife raised and poised to kill, some things become clearer still. The books had not lied, the few that she read, about how the Outsider supposedly became what he is now. She just never thought that one day she will be where it happened, see how it happened. And _know_ the truth of the birth of a being so equally revered and hated.

The Outsider appears again, laying on the altar, with the tip of the blade raised above him. He seems fond almost, as he speaks. “Right up until the end I thought I’d find a way to escape. I fought but the ropes only cut my skin so I went limp.” He sits up, rubs the skin there, as if echoes of the injuries still remain. “And then the knife touched my throat and I knew I’d waited too long. The blood ran out and I became a _god_.”

It’s sympathy that Emily feels. Sympathy and a dash of horror for how selfish some people can be. What gave these followers of the Void the power to chose for someone in their stead, to choose for the Outsider. She thinks of the horror that took over her when she saw her father imprisoned in stone, as she watched her empire be taken from her. Emily thinks of the weakness that she felt if even just for a second as everything that she had known of herself was taken from her by Delilah.

“Aren’t you angry at them? For doing this to you.” Emily asks into the silence that has stretched out.

The Outsider considers. “I did at the beginning. But then time passed and everything became dull, the same. What use was my anger when it cannot be undone.” He appears crouching on a branch of an old, burned tree then, “But now you know Delilah’s secret. At the end of her days, she drifted through the Void and should have been lost forever. But her will and cunning are second to none.”

This time Emily does not imagine the annoyance that flows through the Outsider’s words, the grimace that shadows his face for a second. “What did she do? She did something to you, didn’t she?”

“She found _this_ place, the island in the Void where I became what I am. It changed her and she discovered a way to draw from it, tapping into the power here.” The Outsider is pacing again, restless. “Delilah is… a part of me now. And I don’t like it.”

The implications of that seem dangerous. Emily knew that the ritual she had seen in Aramis Stilton’s home was wrong and dangerous, but to think that Delilah stitched herself to the Outsider, took a part of a god and then put it in herself. The secret of immortality.

“That’s insanity. Can’t you do anything about it yourself?” Emily asks after she has heard the explanation fully, has been shown the thing of bones where Delilah’s spirit resides in now.

The Outsider ignores her question and moves on as if he had heard nothing. “If you want to kill Delilah, you’re going to have to find her spirit and give it back to her. Reaching it won’t be easy, but what happens after that might be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. You have been strong so far, Emily, and you need to be stronger still now as well.”

With that the Outsider disappears and Emily is left alone with ghosts of the past and dread beating against her bones. She knows that the Outsider stays neutral and merely offers power, but this is far more than that. This is him asking her to rip away a leech that feeds off his power, to free him of it. The last parting words were ones of comfort, even if at first they don’t seem to be.

Emily steps out of Void dreading what is to come.

…

The Duke’s palace is grand. It feels foreign now, to be here among the riches, despite it not being so long ago that Emily was forced to flee her own palace.

“Here you are back among your own people, the palace-born and those who curry their favor.” The Outsider sounds almost mocking. He’s relaxed this time, lounging on a rock as usual. “Are you feeling more comfortable, majesty?”

Emily can’t stop the annoyed glare, the displeased curl of her lip that follows the Outsider’s jab. “No, I don’t.”

“So these are the people you want running a quarter of your Empire? No? It never seemed to bother you before. Maybe it looks different up close after all. Maybe here it’s harder to ignore the way people outside the palace get through the day.” The Outsider continues on as if he hadn’t heard her, doesn’t care for her feelings.

Perhaps it’s exactly what Emily needed all this time. It’s a harsh truth but one that needs to be learned, _seen_.

Emily looks away. “No, I don’t want them in charge here. _I_ let it go this far, this is all my mistake. A mistake of ignorance and my youth. I rather dined out of silver plates and pretended that Karnaca is fine, than faced the reality. I _will_ do better by these people, by my Empire.”

The Outsider hums. He seems no longer as indifferent. “You’ve changed, your majesty. And I am interested to see your new path play out indeed. In any case, I know what you’re after right now.”

“Oh, and is that supposed to surprise me?” Emily shoots back before she can rethink her words.

This time the Outsider doesn’t comment, just offers a ghost of a smile. He walks around her, unhurried as they are trapped in the Void for a long, eternal second. “The Heart you carry can only hold one spirit at a time, so if you want to walk out with a piece of Delilah, you’d better be ready to leave something behind.”

Emily reaches for the Heart as if on instinct.

It’s time. She knows that it’s time to let go of the echo of her mother that was leant to her. But it’s still hard to not clutch onto what little Emily has been allowed to have like a selfish child, needy of her mother’s everything. Emily had so little time with her mother. Only her memories are left, memories and carefully poised portraits hung on the castle walls that reflect the Empress and not Jessamine, Emily’s mother.

“I need to let her go tonight, don’t I?” Emily whispers, suddenly young again. Young and desperate for her mother that will never return.

The Outsider looks over his shoulder. “It’s time. All souls must move on eventually.”

Emily pulls out the Heart and cradles it gently in her palms. Just a few hours more with the echo of her mother’s voice in her ear. A time limit that cannot be stopped and prevented if Emily wishes to win back her empire, the one parent that is still among the living.

She knew this time will come. But facing it is still hard, just like the Outsider warned.

…

Emily watches Jessamine move on. She gets to touch her mother one last time and hear her _I love you_. It’s more than she ever thought to have, so it’s enough.

…

The Dunwall that Emily left is not the same Dunwall that she comes back to.

It smells like mold and old wood, like death. Only witches and hounds roam the streets, all those who used to live here before the coup now hide inside what is left of their homes, scared to be the next ones to be killed. Emily scales the rooftops and balconies. She wishes she could have come back faster, prevented all of this bloodshed and terror.

There are bodies left on the streets, witch dogs roaming through them and ripping flesh off bodies. Their howls echo through the empty streets, mix with the cackling of witches patrolling some of the deserted buildings.

“Welcome home, Your Majesty. Delilah’s waiting for you.” The Outsider greets her this time. He’s almost giddy, if one could call him that.

Emily wants to roll her eyes at the being, but holds back. “What a welcome, this. Darkness and rot, all made by my dear aunt’s capable hands.”

“After rot comes life, with time.” The Outsider notes, then picks up on his greeting as if Emily never spoke, “Delilah has been sleeping badly for the last couple of weeks because that piece you’re carrying around has been calling out, begging to her to take it back. She feels the same craving, but she’ll fight to the death to stop you from putting her sprit back where it belongs.”

“She can fight all she wants, but I will complete my mission and make her whole, one way or another. She got the throne that she wanted, but is she ready to protect it, fight for it, like I am?” Emily looks down at the Heart. The spirit captured in it now, Delilah’s spirit, rumbles with a hungry need the closer she gets to the tower.

It may have been torn out of Delilah’s body, but it’s still part of the woman. And it _yearns_.

The Outsider looks at the Heart as well. His black eyes narrow in annoyance just so. “The desperate ones tend to fight the hardest, the nastiest. You should know, Emily, since you did the same.” He steps back and his mouth twitches. “You were careful in Karnaca. Let’s see how that serves you in the tower where you were born.”

“The same, I suppose. Everything until now has been in preparation for this.”

“Delilah still has your throne and your father, but now she’s got a secret as well.” The Outsider suddenly says before he disappears together with the Void.

Emily stands in the hidden room, before the altar and swallows. A secret. There is always a secret, a catch that she only finds out about during the mission. She should have expected this to be no different, but it still catches her off guard.

What else is there? What else could have Delilah done to secure the spot that should have never been hers to begin with?

…

Delilah looks happy in the painting that now serves as her home, the only reality that she will ever know.

Emily is gentle as she runs her fingers over the strokes of paint that are slowly fading from bright to darker, set on the canvas for a forever to come. It’s a sad end for Delilah, sadder than a simple death could ever be, perhaps. The same as it was with Jindosh.

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose.” The Outsider is next to her suddenly.

“Are they? Thank you, then. I didn’t think you’d care about me after Delilah has been dealt with.” Emily smiles, chuckles despite the tiredness that tugs on her limbs. It feels like it has been years instead of months.

The Outsider rocks on the balls of his feet. “You ripped her off from me, saved your empire. I’ve given my mark to many and so few of them have intrigued me as you have. Some would say that is a damning sign, some call it a blessing.”

Emily shifts her weight just so, crosses her arms across her chest and looks at this strange companion she had acquired along the way. “I will stick with something in the middle. A friend, almost.”

“A friend. I have never had one of those. Not since I became one with the Void.” The Outsider tilts his head to the side. “Maybe we will meet again someday, Emily Kaldwin. I will watch over you, as I did until now and maybe someday offer you my mark again. If that time is to come.”

“You seem to like my family.” Emily laughs.

There is a pang in her chest as she thinks of her mother, of her father still coated in rock. But time stands still now and Emily is sure that Delilah’s magic will fall apart the second the Outsider leaves. For now, this tiny pause in-between is welcome. Maybe even needed, before she has to stand by her throne once more and build Dunwall anew, revive Karnaca to what it once was.

“That I do.” The Outsider notes, glances at Corvo. “Go now, be with your father. And good luck, Your Majesty.”

Emily watches the swirls of Void that linger behind the Outsider and glances at the top of her palm, the mark that lingers still, pale now and something she might never need to use again. But still there as a reminder, an option to use when need must.

Corvo holds her close once he stumbles out of his stone prison and Emily reassures him that everything is done now, Delilah is gone. The Outsider is a story for later, though.

**Author's Note:**

> i finished the second dishonored game and i needed to write a fic where emily and outsider become bros. i just really needed it, the same way i wish emily spoke more with the outsider rather than keeping super quiet all the time. but alas. that's what fics are for. so yeah, this is my take on how their void dates would have gone if they bantered with each other more :p


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